


A Shared Grief

by warmspringrain



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmspringrain/pseuds/warmspringrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River Song and Brian Williams clean out Amy and Rory's house after The Angels Take Manhattan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shared Grief

No one notices River as she approaches the house in the rain. This is the last place in the universe that she wants to be, but there is work that needs to be done, and she's the one to do it.

Even just walking in the door hurts. The house hasn't had time to go stale in mourning; instead, it's as though her parents have just stepped out to go to the store, and will be back any minute. River takes a deep, steadying breath and heads for the kitchen. Easy things first. She'll clean out the fridge and the pantry. Nothing sentimental or personal. Just food.

She only lasts an hour before she has to leave, setting her vortex manipulator on random. She ends up in a war zone, and tries to tell herself that the shooting and saving lives puts everything back in balance again. She almost lets herself believe that's true.

She's back again the next day, and is able to force herself to stay an extra half hour as she finishes boxing up the dishware. If one set is a few dishes short and there are glass shards scattered across the kitchen floor, well, no one else is ever going to notice.

It's the fourth day of this torture when River hears someone come in the front door. Her gun is already drawn and aimed when she hears Brian Williams' voice from the front hall.

“Got tired of thinking you were going to invite me over, so I let myself in,” he calls.

River sighs and holsters her gun again, returning to the shelves she been sorting through. It looks like she'll have to sweep the kitchen now after all.

“Hello, there. I'm Brian Williams, Rory's father,” he introduces himself as he comes into the kitchen, extending a hand in greeting. River wipes her hands on her skirt before accepting the offered hand and shaking firmly.

“Professor River Song. I traveled with Rory and Amy.” She's watching him closely as she says the well-rehearsed line, but he just nods and attempts to smile. Telling herself that the feeling in her stomach is due to nothing more than hunger, River turns and returns to the items she'd been carefully wrapping.

“Right, well. I've been meaning to do this, you know. Just haven't been able to bring myself to begin, it seems. It's a big job for one person.” When River doesn't respond, he sighs. “Ah, well. Guess now is as good a time as any. Not like waiting is going to make it any easier.”

He's reaching for one of the empty boxes as River shakes her head, not looking up from the task at hand. “You don't have to help, Brian. I've got it covered. It's okay.”

“My dear,” Brian retorts as he heads for the far shelf, “I'm almost impressed by how entirely inaccurate those statements are. Firstly, I _do_ have to help: I am, after all, one of the few remaining relatives that actually has an accurate idea of just what has happened to my son and daughter-in-law. Second, if the state of the kitchen is anything to go by, you do _not_ have it covered, much as you might like to think you do. And lastly, this...what we have now, the two of us, to deal with...it is a great many things, but none of them are okay.”

River stares down at the box in her hands until she realizes that Brian's waiting for her response. Not looking up, she gives him a curt nod, and he moves to grad one of the empty boxes. Neither of them say anything after that.

With Brian working alongside her, River makes it a full hour longer than she has the past few days. As the time continues to accumulate she can feel her nerves fraying, but River refuses to leave Brian to work by himself. As if he can see her tethers snapping, however, Brian finally stands and stretches. “I don't know about you, River, but I've had more than enough for one day.” He reaches a hand out to help her stand, and she nods and accepts it. As Brian brushes the back of his head in a nervous fidget, the gesture is so strongly reminiscent of Rory that for a moment River finds it hard to breathe. Brian doesn't seem to notice as he tells her, “Look, River, I know we can both use a bite to eat right now, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just go home and lie down.”

River nods and attempts a smile. “No, that's fine; I'm feeling the same way, truth be told.”

Brian grabs his coat and heads for the door. “Right. Well then, River. Until next time,” he calls, and leaves without a backwards glance. As soon as he's gone, River grabs her vortex manipulator and keys in the coordinates for home. It's not until she's lying in bed falling asleep that she realizes it's the first time she's left her parent's house and not gone looking for something to shoot.

 

After that first day, Brian's at the house every time River is. Sometimes he beats her there, but usually he walks in within ten minutes of River's arrival. They work almost entirely in silence at first, making their way slowly and carefully through the downstairs. As the items being handled become more personal, they reach an unspoken agreement that Amy's things are handled by Brian; Rory's, by River. River's face is coldly calm at best and a stony mask at worst. Brian, by contrast, weeps openly. Not often, not every time, but some days are just too much, and some memories are still too raw.

As they move from the dining room into the living room, Brian begins to tell her stories. Rory and Amy growing up together, getting married, making a new life together. Rory's patience; Amy's passion. River listens without reply, but she drinks in every word, even when the stories are events that she herself remembers. Her silence never bothers Brian, and she is in turns grateful for his understanding and furious that he must be such a present reminder of the father she has lost.

They make it all the way to Amy and Rory's bedroom before he asks her. It's the last room left—River's own had been painfully easy to clear out—and they can't put it off any longer. River finds it hard to breathe after only being in the room for five minutes, and wishes desperately that she could turn and run away. But Brian isn't leaving, and River will be damned to leave him to face this alone. River is so busy forcing herself to stick it out that she doesn't realize Brian is watching her until he grasps her gently by the shoulders and sits her gently on the bed. Shaking her head to clear it, River stands and goes back to the dresser she'd been working on. “I'm fine, Brian. It's just stuffy in here, that's all.”

He doesn't touch her again, but instead sits himself on the bed and pats the space next to him. “Sit down for a moment, River.”

“With all due respect, I'd really rather get this done and over with,” she replies, willing her hands to still themselves as she folds Rory's shirts into an open box.

From behind her, Brian sighs. “River. You need to let yourself grieve. If you don't, you'll never be able to let them go.”

River resolutely keeps folding as she answers him. “They're gone, Brian. Whether or not I let them go doesn't really matter. Now I'm just doing what needs to be done.”

“And you're the one that needs to do it?” Brian's voice is too kind, and River tenses as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

“Someone has to, Brian.” _Damn him_ , she thinks. Damn him for making her do this here and now.

“Oh, of course. Someone always has to. And usually that someone forced to deal with cleaning out a home after death is next-of-kin. Isn't that right, River?”

Her hand stills in the dresser drawer, her whole body frozen as the words hit. _He knows_. Of course he knows. Why didn't he say something before? Why didn't _anyone_ tell her this crucial bit of information before? It's too much for River, right here, right now, in this cursed empty room. She can't answer his question; she has no answer to give. What could she possibly ever say that would be even slightly adequate?

But after weeks of silence, it seems that Brian doesn't really expect her to answer him. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like... it's just, I kept hoping you might say something eventually. But you've never opened up, and I realized today that I had to, or else I'd be watching you walk out that door and I'd never see you again.” His voice drops, but there's only a hint of a waiver as he adds, “And I've said enough goodbyes already. I think we both have.”

River finally lets the shirt go and wraps her arms around herself instead. Staring at the dresser in front of her, her expression grows distant. Brian makes himself comfortable on the bed and waits patiently. When River finally speaks, her voice is so low that Brian can barely hear her. “I honestly didn't think you knew. I didn't think they'd ever tell you.”

“You know them better than that.” Brian says it gently, but River's eyes still close, her face clenched in pain. Brian looks down at his hands and continues softly, “It took them a long time, though. I think they wanted to, but could never quite figure out how to go about it. But then I got to travel with them—completely by accident, of course—and that changed a lot of things. They sat me down over pizza and beer—lots of beer—and told me everything. How you're their daughter, but never actually got to be their child. How you're River now, but were that little girl Mels that terrorized the neighborhood growing up. You get that from the other side of the family, by the way,” he jokes, and is rewarded with the tiniest of smiles from River. “They wanted me to meet you, but it never seemed to work out. Until now, of course.” The silence stretches until Brian adds, “I know its very late now. Too late for some things. But I'd like the chance to get to know you now. There are so many things to talk about.” He smiles sadly. “Let me be a grandfather. I could be pretty good at it, you know. Buy you sweets when I shouldn't. Take you out for your birthday, or on day trips. Spoil you rotten. That sort of thing.”

River smiles a bit wider at that, but it waivers and she turns her back to him, gripping the drawer in front of her so hard her knuckles turn white.

Brian, bless him, understands. “Anyway. There will be time to talk over all of that. In the meantime, I'll just pop downstairs and brew us some tea, all right? And you just come down whenever you're done up here.” Without coming any closer to her, Brian lets himself out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

It's a full hour before she comes down to join him, but when she does, there's a calmness to her face that Brian hasn't seen since he's met her. He smiles at her, and can feel the some of his own tension easing. “There now. You'll have to wait for the tea, I'm afraid—the first pot's gone cold—but I found some jammy dodgers tucked back in one of the cabinets that can hold you over in the meantime.” She accepts the offered treat with a smile and settles herself on one of the kitchen stools.

When Brian's back is turned to tend the tea, River begins to speak, all of the pent up stories from the past few weeks finally spilling out. She tells Brian about traveling with her parents, about growing up with them from her view, about meeting them again in a brand new body. She tells him of how they saved her, and showed her the woman she could choose to become. She tells him the story of the woman who kept the entire universe safe inside her mind, of the man who never let something as small as death keep him from those he loved. The day fades and Brian orders delivery that they eat in the empty living room, not caring if they make a mess or that the grease gets everywhere. They laugh and joke and do not cry; this is a different kind of mourning, and not the time for tears. They talk until they both go hoarse, until the sun begins to peek its way back in through the windows again.

Finally, they run out of words, so instead they stare at each other fondly.

“The did so much good, Brian. More than most people can barely even contemplate. They would have done you so proud.”

“Did us both proud, I should think,” Brian corrects her with a smile. The smiles doesn't hold, and he shakes his head. “Oh, River. I know that they were happy, and together; I know that they lived good lives. But I just...I miss them. So much.” He drops his head in his hands, momentarily overcome with grief.

There's nothing that River can say to this, so she doesn't try. But after a moment, she reaches over and lays a hand gently on her grandfather's knee. He immediately clasps it, squeezing gratefully, until he straightens and leans back, looking old and tired. “Anyway. Enough of that. What about you, River? What will you do now?” His voice is rough, and he cannot hide the wistfulness in the last question.

River drops his hand and settles back. “I'm a professor now, with classes and students waiting for me, whenever I go back.” She doesn't mention that she's figured out by the shadows in the Doctor's eyes that her time, too, is coming to an end. It should frighten or upset her, but now that her parents are gone, she finds she doesn't really mind as much. As far as she's concerned, the less time she has to spend without them, the better. And after all, they aren't the only ones who have lived good lives.

She realizes that Brian is watching her a bit too closely, so she chooses the most obvious deflection. “And you, Brian? What will you do?”

Brian stares down at his hands. “Oh, I don't know. There's always gardening. Someone has to look after that plants.” He half smiles at that, remembering something, before his eyes dim again. “I was keeping plenty busy before, on my own. It'll just be that again.” He looks up in time to catch the look on River's face before she can hide it, and he shakes his head, smiling wryly. “I'll be fine, River.”

“Come home with me.” The words are out of her mouth before she realizes what she's offering, what she's giving up. When she remembers, she realizes that she doesn't care. “No, Brian, I'm serious,” --because of course he is shaking his head in protest-- “I've got the room, so it wouldn't be a bother. It wouldn't be permanent,” she adds, not sure which of them she's reassuring of that fact. “

“River, look, that's very kind of you, but I could never accept such an offer,” Brian begins, but River shakes her head impatiently.

“I'm not asking to be kind, Brian. It's me being selfish, really. It's been...these last few days...I just think that you and I have spent enough time on our own. Don't you?”

“But River, your students and classes and things. I'm just an old man with too many hobbies, I'd only be in your way.”

“Believe me, I've dealt with far older men than you, and am quite capable of keeping them out of my way if need be,” River immediately quips. Looking at her grandfather, River can see the internal war clearly splayed across his face, and she smiles gently. “I've got a garden too, Brian. Don't those plants also need tending?”

His eyes light up immediately and, realizing it, he laughs, throwing up his hands in surrender. “All right, fine, fine! I'll come. But only until you're sick of me, you promise?” River nods, and he stands with a groan. “Well, fine then. It's settled. Do you think we'll be able to finish the last of this today? I'd rather not have to come back her again, if we can help it.” River nods, and they both head back upstairs.

The stripping of Amy and Rory's bedroom is still intensely painful, but with the end in sight and a new adventure to look forward to now, it has become easier to bear. Brian packs the last of the donation boxes in his car as River clears out the trash. They each have just a few items that they wanted to keep, and River takes that box with her. She regards Brian fondly. “I'll be back in two weeks to pick you up. Time for you to grab what you need, and for me to get everything ready for you. Okay?”

Brian nods and watches as she taps her vortex manipulator, disappearing with a crackling of air and a puff of smoke. He shakes his head in amusement and gets in his car. As he begins driving to the donation center, he's already planning which cuttings to bring with him. Smiling to himself, he wonders idly if River's garden will have spot for sunflowers and wisteria.

**Author's Note:**

> This ending was not the one that I had originally intended, but when I was writing out the first draft River stepped in and insisted that Brian not be left alone. How could I possibly refuse her? 
> 
> Amy's flowers are obviously sunflowers, but I really wanted Rory to have a flower too. After doing some quick research on flower meanings, I chose wisteria because their primary meaning seems to be steadfast or enduring. Other meanings I found include warm welcome, patience, exploration, the duality of love, and victory over hardship.


End file.
